


I Am Sworn

by assassinslover



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Kodlak's death, Freya seeks comfort from her Housecarl, something Lydia is more than willing to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Sworn

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't beta'd or anything, so all mistakes are my own. I don't own Skyrim or any of the characters, etc.

The temptation to read Kodlak's journal had been strong, but Freya had left the small book in the drawer, taking the fragment of the axe to Eorlund as he had asked. She had left then, the flames of Kodlak's funeral pyre still burning brightly in the night. Freya didn't seek comfort in the quarters beneath the mead hall, though there was no doubt that there would have been plenty of drink and eventually plenty of laughter to ease the Companions' hearts. The streets were empty, the air full of the crisp scents of autumn, a chill in the air. Goosepimples rose on the exposed flesh of her arms as she walked. Even in the dark she knew the streets by heart, and easily found her way to the home bestowed upon her by Balgruuf.

Freya's limbs felt heavy as she lifted the key to the lock and pushed the door open with a creak. It was warm inside, a fire roaring happily in the pit. Freya hung her light cloak on a peg by the door and slumped towards one of the chairs, letting her body sink into it. As she sat, she felt the ache begin to settle in her arms and shoulders. She let her eyes slide shut and relaxed into the seat. Vilkas and her had left at dawn and had ridden hard all morning, and fought even harder. There had been no time to rest, and even now, despite the tiredness in her bones, her mind was wide awake.

Freya stayed unmoving until the fire had warmed her body through. Her head swam, but everything felt as though it was hidden in a thick mist. She had not known Kodlak long, or had many conversations with the Harbinger, but she had a feeling deep in her gut that he old man knew more than any of the Companions were aware. She wondered if he had found his way to Sovngarde, or if his spirit was doomed to a fate it did not want. Freya pushed herself to her feet, groaning as her muscles complained. There was nothing she wanted more than to fall into the soft piles of furs that made up her bed.

The stairs creaked as she stepped up them, her armour feeling a thousand times heavier. The door to Lydia's room was closed. Quietly, Freya creaked one side opened and peered in, but found her Housecarl's bed empty. Lydia had fallen asleep in the chair in the corner of Freya's bedroom, her cheek resting against her fist and her elbow propped on her table. Her armour was gone, instead she wore the roughspun wool tunic and breeches that cushioned her skin from the rough touch of steel. Freya gently touched Lydia's shoulder. Lydia's eyes blinked open and she gazed sleepily up at Freya.

“You don't have to sit in this chair all the time,” Freya told her softly. Her footsteps thudded softly on the wood boards as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, bending over awkwardly to undo the straps and buckles on her boots and slide her aching feet out of them. Lydia immediately rose to help her, releasing the straps that Freya had trouble reaching on her own.

“I heard what happened,” she said, her voice quiet. She pulled Freya's dark hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears as the Companion bent over to deal with her greaves.

“I'm sorry that I left you so brusquely this morning,” Freya said. “There was no time. Vilkas and I...” she trailed off and shook her head. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them back.

“It is alright,” Lydia told her gently. She took away Freya's armour and stacked it in it's place in the corner. “Do you need anything, my Thane?” Freya buried her hands in her hair and tried to push her fingers through, but they snagged on tangles. She shook her head. Lydia picked up Freya's comb from the dresser and climbed onto the bed, kneeling and sitting back on her heels. She pushed Freya's hands away and slowly began to comb out the knots. Her touch comforted, but did nothing to sooth the demons raging in Freya's chest.

“Thank you,” the Companion said.

“My heart grieves for your loss,” Lydia said, her voice close to Freya's ear. “I wish I could offer you comfort.” There was a hand on her shoulder. Freya covered it with her own, and stroked Lydia's rough knuckles with her thumb. When she released it, Lydia went back to combing the tangles out of her hair, until it fell smooth and wavy around her shoulders. With steady fingers, Lydia re-braided it, and tucked it behind her ears again. The Housecarl squeezed her shoulder once more, and slipped off the bed, replacing the comb back on the dresser.

Freya stood slowly, quietly tracing Lydia's footsteps and reaching out to grab her wrist. With one quick tug, she spun the Housecarl around and backed her against the closed bedroom door. With a soft thump Lydia's back contacted the wood, her hands held by her head by Freya's fingers around her wrists. Her blue eyes widened slightly, but her pupils were large and Freya heard her breath as it caught in her throat. She did not move as Freya pressed closer, and only spoke when their lips were almost touching.

“Freya,” Lydia breathed, her voice barely a whisper. It struck a chord deep in Freya's chest, and her blood sang at the sound. Lydia's lips were soft, and her body was firm but yielding beneath Freya's advances. One small step forward destroyed all space between them. Freya let go of Lydia's wrists, giving her Housecarl the use of her hands once more, and moved her own to Lydia's waist and hips. She drew them away from the door, guiding them over to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit the edge, they buckled. Freya let herself fall, and lifted her hands to tug on the ties of Lydia's shirt with her fingers before wrestling it up over her smooth stomach. Lydia helped, dropping the fabric to the ground when it had cleared her head. Freya ghosted her fingers across the flesh before her, and kissed a scar to the side of Lydia's navel.

“How did you come by this?” she asked, and felt Lydia shudder as Freya's breath met her exposed skin. Her flesh was raised in the chilly air of the loft. She felt Lydia's fingers pick at one of her braids.

“A training accident,” Lydia replied, her voice soft. “My opponent was not given a blunted blade for our bout, as he should have been. When I was too slow to move out of the way, his weapon cleaved through my leathers and sliced the flesh beneath. It healed well, but I will always bear the mark. I am not ashamed of my mistake, nor do I blame the instructor who was overseeing us, but I learned from the experience.” Lydia's hands found her face, and tilted Freya's head back so she could look upon it, her fingers cradling the Companion's jaw.

“And these?” she asked, referring to the light marks across Freya's nose and lip, barely visible against her pale skin.

“A great fight with a terrible beast,” Freya replied with a smirk on her lips. Her fingers tugged at the waist of Lydia's trousers. Lydia had not shown any hesitation, but now she did, her brow furrowing and the corners of her lips tugging them into a frown. Freya slid her hands along Lydia's side. “This is the comfort I seek, if you would provide it,” she said, looking directly into Lydia's eyes.

“I am sworn to carry your burdens,” Lydia whispered with a gentle smile.

“This is not something I would willingly burden your heart with,” Freya said sadly, laying her brow against the space between Lydia's breasts.

“I would gladly take it if it would ease the pain in yours.” Freya took Lydia's hand and shuffled back properly onto the bed, drawing the Housecarl onto the furs with her. The candlelight flickered invitingly over Lydia's exposed flesh, and danced in her dark eyes. Lydia pushed her back into their soft embrace. Freya pulled her shirt over her head and Lydia's hips down into hers. They kissed deeply, Freya arching her body up and dragging her nails lightly up Lydia's back. She felt her Housecarl shudder, felt the vibration of Lydia's gasp against her lips, felt Lydia's fingers digging into her side and pulling at her skin. Freya turned her head to the side and let Lydia's lips trail along the edge of her jaw. In retaliation, she scraped her teeth across the shell of Lydia's ear, and nuzzled her nose into Lydia's hair. Her hands roamed up and down the flesh of the warrior's back, feeling her muscles shift and flex, tracing the puckered flesh of her scars.

Freya's hands pushed Lydia's trousers down her hips, thumbs tracing over the bones there. Lydia kicked them off her feet, her own fingers plucking at Freya's. Freya lifted her hips off the bed, running her hands down the gooseflesh on Lydia's arms, then up her shoulders and into her thick hair when the Housecarl had tossed her trousers to the side and pressed their bodies together once more.

“Come, under the blankets,” Freya whispered, reluctantly extracting herself from Lydia's arms and pulling back the furs and waiting for Lydia to take her place beneath them before covering her own cold body. Immediately, Lydia's lips found hers again, her strong arms pulling Freya's body against hers once more. Freya tangled her fingers in Lydia's hair again, and slung her leg over the warrior's hip to bring them even closer. Lydia's hand moved down, skimming past Freya's breast and along her side. With a twitch of her hips, the Housecarl had Freya on her back, with a thigh pressed squarely against the heat between her legs, and her mouth trailing down over the Companion's collarbone to the rise of her breasts. Lydia's hair was feather-soft against her skin, her calloused fingers tenderly stroked Freya's stomach, and her lips left trails of fire as hot as dragon's breath wherever they touched.

Lydia kissed the underside of her breast, and sighed against her skin, pushing her thigh more firmly against Freya's centre. Freya's hips bucked up, her hands grasping Lydia's hips, pulling the Housecarl closer, needing the pressure, but Lydia pulled away as her head moved further down. Her nose brushed across Freya's navel. The Companion tugged on her hair, guiding her back up and forcing their lips together. Lydia's fingers ghosted up the outside of her thigh, tracing over her hipbone. Her other hand pushed into the pillow next to Freya's head.

“Touch me,” the Companion whispered against Lydia's lips. “Before I die of want.”

“As you will, my Thane,”Lydia husked, and her fingers brushed against Freya's centre. She gasped and arched. Lydia's fingers were strong, and her touch sure, as if she'd done this before. Perhaps she had, but it was no business of Freya's, and it was hard to keep her mind focused on anything except the strokes of her lover's fingers. Freya kept her hands in Lydia's hair, squeezing and tugging while the Housecarl hovered over her, coaxing her thighs apart and teasing her fingers towards Freya's core. She grabbed at Lydia's hand, twisting their fingers together, using the other to pull Lydia's head to her bosom. The warrior kissed her collarbone and sternum, nuzzled the side of her breast, while her fingers slowly pushed inside.

Freya couldn't help the moan that ripped itself from her throat. She felt Lydia's satisfied smile against her skin. Without effort they fell into a steady rhythm, Freya moving her hips to meet the thrust of Lydia's fingers. Lydia brushed her lips over one of Freya's nipples, her fingers pushing deeper. Freya's back arched, and she groaned again.

“Gods,” she said, pulling on Lydia's hair too sharply. With almost practiced ease, Lydia built Freya up to the edge, both of them covered in a light sheen of sweat. Freya could hear Lydia's breathing, almost as harsh as her own, smell the headiness of their arousal in the air. Her body tensed, one arm clutching Lydia to her while the other squeezed the Housecarl's fingers so tight she was almost afraid she might break them. Lydia nipped at her skin, changing the pace of her fingers to match the almost frantic movements of Freya's hips.

“My Thane,” Lydia said against her skin, holding the Companion close as her body began to tremble. “Freya.” Freya was only just aware of the noises she made, and how she called Lydia's name while her Housecarl held her close. Her body shook, muscles locked, Lydia's form the only thing keeping her from arching completely off the bed. Lydia's fingers remained as Freya began to relax, still gently touching, kissing her collarbone. Her limbs felt like jelly. Lydia moved her hand away, ghosting wet fingers across Freya's thigh briefly before she shifted her weight up to press her lips gently to the Companion's, kissing her slowly and tenderly as Freya once again became aware of the world around her. Freya could feel the frantic beating of Lydia's heart against her chest, matching time with her own. She wasn't aware of the dampness on her thigh until Lydia shifted off of her to fix the blankets. In the candlelight, the Housecarl's face was flushed. Freya opened her arms to the warrior. Lydia cuddled into her, and Freya helped her to pull the furs comfortably over them. For a long time, there was silence.

“You have my thanks,” Freya finally whispered. Lydia stroked her ribs gently.

“I would give you the world, were it mine to give,” the Housecarl replied, mumbling her words together. Freya stroked her dark hair, her heart in her throat. In the morning, life would have to begin again. Kodlak's funeral would be arranged, and she would have to come to terms with what she felt for Lydia, but for now, they would sleep.


End file.
